That One Thing We Knew
by Fritter Critter
Summary: Dipper didn't mean to contribute to the destruction the Companion was about to cause. But he had been there. It was his hand that ruined everything, wasn't it? And now all of the Imaginarium was doomed. [Heavily crossed over between Gravity Falls and Invader Zim, hints of other Universes. Multiverse AU thing? You'll learn stuff as you go. Lots 'O OCs.]
1. Prolouge: When Dipper Meets Ground

Something felt odd about the smell of the place.

Dipper couldn't lie on this one- coming back to this stupid tree lab was stupid. But it wasn't his idea in the first place. Not technically, anyways. Well, it...kind of was?

Dipper sighed, shaking his head. That didn't matter right now. What mattered was the fact that it was stupid, and Dipper hated stupid things.

Dipper shook some of the mud off of his tennis shoe and looked grimly up at the lever above him, still uncertain. Stupidity was one thing, of course. But this mission was also kind of suicidal. Surely it would be best that he just left it alone. Like...maybe the Companion could go on without this one thing.

His feet suddenly were pushed forward through the dirt, making him trip a little. He held his hand out for balance, and he stopped from falling, if only for a second. His face still hit the bark of the tree despite his efforts. The Companion was impatient. It wanted the item.

Dipper pushed himself off the tree and sighed, flipping through the journal. It should have something...something about the lever. Dipper tipped up his hat a little, sweating nervously as he held the black light at eye level.

"Your eyes should guide your ways when the moon's rays hit the leaves. What...what the heck does THAT mean?" Dipper frowned, turning to the next page and reading over the lines. So...he was supposed to look at the leaves or something? Right? Okay. At least Dipper could manage that.

He scanned the leaves that surrounded the lever. The moonlight was already shining through them, but nothing was happening. They were just making that weird glowy thing that leaves did when-

Wait. Weird glowy thing?

Dipper looked down to see his feet under the same glow, slowly being lifted into the air. Uh...this...was weird. Dipper frowned and ran his hands through his hair as the glow lifted him to the top of the tree. That wasn't normal. There was a lot of things not normal about this town, but this was especially not normal.

He came to a stop only inches away from where the lever was placed. Dipper took one look at it and felt his self confidence shrink down to the size of an ant. Dipper couldn't do this. He was just a kid, right? A twelve year old kid with the knowledge of living in a world built up into millions of Multiverses called the Imaginarium. He should have stopped this before he stepped into this mess. He should of gone to Makayla, or Dib, or that little alien that they hang around. Someone, ANYONE that could have helped him.

But now he was stuck. He had two choices: pull the lever or die. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

His hand involuntarily reached towards the lever. He found himself slapping it away. This was really stupid. Such a stupid situation. He hated this harder than...whatever could be harder than diamond. Dipper bit his lip as the Companion pushed him closer. He hated the Companion. He hated everything.

His hand reached out once more. This time he couldn't find it in himself to stop it from gripping onto the lever. He felt his sweat drip down his face like rain water down a window. He closed his eyes and cringed away as his hand slowly pushed it downward.

The gears clicked into place and the tree rose upward, revealing the stairsteps below.

_Well done._

Dipper's eyes snapped open.

_I suppose your purpose has been worn out, hasn't it?_

"Don't," Dipper mouthed. Who was he mouthing to? Where was the Companion's voice coming from? Why was he even talking?

_Good bye, Dipper Pines._

Dipper let go of the lever. And, suddenly, he was falling. Falling down...down...and then nothing. Nothing at all.


	2. Chapter One: Mailbox

Nobody had been ready.

No, none of them had expected it. None of them had thought, "Hey, the end of the world is going to happen today, maybe I should go start setting up my survival kit." None of them had stopped what they were doing. None of them woke up in alarm and started screaming about the fact that the end was near. Well...maybe some hobos, somewhere on Earth, did. But they do that every day, so that doesn't really count.

The fact was, the world kept spinning that day. It kept turning, it's inhabitants kept working. People were in the middle of getting married. People were eating. People were sleeping. Some people were even using the bathroom for their multiple needs.

Nobody noticed. Nobody cared.

Nobody heard that fateful letter be dropped in Armand's mailbox.

Not even Armand. Was anybody that super sonic, to hear the dropping of paper in a small box from...what...like, twenty three feet away inside a building? If somebody could, Armand would be extremely impressed. No joke.

But, alas, Armand did notice the mailbox. For some reason he noticed it. And then, when the red flappy thing suddenly appeared as up...well...it was strange. Because Armand had been watching it, right? And then, in a blink, the flappy thing was up. Nobody was there. Nobody moved it.

Nobody nobody nobody.

That was the word that ran through Armand's mind as he hurriedly shuffled his feet down the stairsteps. He stopped at the door, picking up his shiny teal bomber jacket and sliding his arms into its sleeves. He also put on some house slippers. The house slippers weren't exactly the prime choice for winter, but, hey. He was just going out to the mailbox. He wasn't even crossing the street.

"Dot, I'm going to check the mailbox, okay?" He called out as he started to turn the door knob.

Dot's face popped up out of her work room into the hall. "Wait, what?" She had a confused look on her face, frown tracing the edges where a smile usually sat.

Armand sighed, pulling open the door a crack. Just a crack. The cold air of winter blew a small flurry of left over snowflakes from yesterday's little snowstorm, twirling into his face. He spat them out distastefully before responding. "I think there's mail in the mailbox, Dot. I'm going to go check it out."

Dot raised an eyebrow. "Armand, you think there's mail a lot of times. I'm pretty sure you're being delusional."

"Will it hurt to look?"

"Hmm..." Dot mulled over this for a second, tapping her fingers on the back of her chair. "I...guess not. Don't kill anyone, though, okay? It's just mail. It may not even be mail. It may be your imagination."

Armand scowled. He hated it when Dot made such a fuss over his cataracts like they were the biggest deal in the world. He had been born with he film over his eyes, a rare case that could only be fixed with surgery. But Armand hated surgery. Like, lasers? Cutting? Into his body? Thanks, but no thanks. So it never happened, and he kept his cataracts. That's why he had to carry a cane everywhere he went and act like a blind person. But he wasn't blind. Seriously. He could see things if he tried hard enough. It was like a foggy window; you had to wipe away the fog to see clearly, and if you didn't, you'd get used to it and find another way.

But Dot treated him like he was blind and, even though he had lived with her for the past three years of his life, Armand was sick of it. He had been sick of it. He would probably always be sick with it.

"Whatever, Dot. Why don't you go listen to your stupid classical music and plays while I go do important stuff."

"Like reading the imaginary mail."

Ugh. So. Done.

Armand didn't even know why he tried- this girl was useless, anyways. She wasn't the boss of him. He should have left without even saying anything.

He furiously stomped out side, grabbing his cane at the last second and slamming the door behind him. Dot was being a butt, and there was nothing Armand could do to stop that. But still. It would be nice to of heard something...well...nice out of Dot's mouth for once.

Whatever. He looked out to the glossy, snowy white nieghborhood before him. He lived with do in a small town in Norway- it wasn't really that much of a town at all, just a few stacked up apartment buildings and a long road that led to the next town over. You had to ride(or walk, for those who perfer to) 11 miles out to the small(but slightly bigger than the current town) town of Svalbard, Norway. The town you are in now is called Litt, which actually means "Little" or "Tiny" in Norwegian.

Recently, the town of Litt had been showered in small amounts of snow. There wasn't enough for ice, which was good, but there was still some slick spots where the snow had melted that Armand would have to look out for. He thrusted his cane forward, bouncing it carelessly along the ground. It wasn't nessecary, but, as usual, he did it. He did it because, despite his harsh words regarding his cataracts, he was still knew the dangers. And he really didn't want to end up in the hospital, or, worse, dead because of his stupidity and ignorance. So he bounced it along, following it and avoiding the places where he felt were slippery. His hand felt for the mailbox, which he could see the vague outline and colors of. It hit the cool metal with a gentle thunk.

His fingers found the latch and pulled it open. Indeed, a small, fuzzy white parchment sat inside the gray mailbox. He grabbed it, looking it over for detail, though knowing his eyes would pick up none. He sighed, slipping his fingers under the lip of the small envelope and tearing it to where a good sized rip had been torn.

With a deep breath, Armand took out the note and unfolded it.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting.

But he knew that when fancy letters were scrawled across a page of fancy paper exclaiming the word "DUCK", he ducked. Not that he actually meant to. Not that he believed some stupid note. It was just reflex.

And that might have possibly saved his life.

As he did duck, he felt his cane drop in the snow next to him and his face hit the cold, wet embrace of semi-frozen water. He assumed that he was covering his head. He didn't exactly know. He didn't exactly know why he had ducked, either. Why that instant? Why in the snow?

A loud bang rang out from behind him Armand was knocked back as the mailbox flew over him. Or...it looked like the mailbox. Maybe it wasn't the mailbox. Well, whatever it was, it was certainly going to make a pretty big dent in his car if it-

Armand's train of thought was interrupted as his head jerked up from it's covered position.

_**Move.**_

Whatever that voice was, it was certainly persistent. Armand did as told, rolling over and grabbing his cane as his feet hit the pavement. He jumped up and ran. He didn't know what direction. Towards the blue squarish house across the street, he guessed, but it was kinda hard to see with his cataracts and his mind screaming in confusion and doubt. Everything looked like mushy mixes of white and sky blue, maybe a bit of dark gray mixed in. With a huge roar and a horrible sound of things crashing ringing out from behind him, he was thrown back once more onto the neighbors lawn, this time not-so-gracefully landing into a dead thorn bush. Because everything was dead in winter, and his neighbors just HAD to have a thorn bush, of course.

This time he could see his own house, though. Not that that was any help. More like just looking at the huge amount of carnage left of his house. Armand groaned, trying to pick himself up out of the bush, but he couldn't move. He couldn't move his legs, his arms. Nothing. At least he still had that stupid cane with him. At least God had let him keep that.

The house, from what little detail Armand could see, had its roof torn off. Apparently it was dropped vey neatly ontop of Armand's already wrecked-from-mailbox car. That was nice. The other parts of the house were on fire. Or ripped to pieces and scattered across the street. Wonderful.

Armand did not know why he was not screaming. He did not know why he felt little to no pain. He did not know why he did not think it was weird that the house had been torn in two and burned. He did not know why he was not wondering how any of this had happened in less than a few minutes. Or maybe it had been hours. He just didn't know.

But he did know he was getting...sleepy. Tired. Things were more fuzzy than their usual fuzziness, and the black spots dancing across his vision were certainly new. Maybe he had been drugged. But he would remember that, right? Right? Surely...surely...

He felt himself yawn, and his eyelids began to droop close. You know, right now would be a perfect time for a nap. A nice cozy thorbush to lay on, house torn to bits, unexplained happenings...you know...greeeeaat time to sleep.

Not. Armand did not want to sleep. In fact, he wanted to know a lot of stuff. And he would not know this stuff by sleeping.

Suddenly, a figure appeared in what little vision he still had. It was...green. Green people. Leprachauns? When Armand had moved here, he had heard an old folk tale about leprachauns. Sure. It was plausible. It could be a leprachaun.

The (supposed) leprachaun snapped it's fingers...no...claws in Armands face. As if to wake a sleeping person. "Hello? Hey? Human?"

Human? O...kay...Armand's eyes closed completely, and the last thing he heard was, "I think he's dead."


End file.
